


Certain Circumstances (Pumpkin Spice and Everything Nice)

by iDragonSpyro



Series: Clextober 2019 [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Baking, Clextober, Clextober 2019, F/F, Figure that one out, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Pumpkin Spice and Everything Nice, Pumpkin pie, Someone help, clarke is thirsty, kind of, lexa is thirsty, oops lexa's body slipped, pumpkin pie is certain circumstances, so is clarke's mouth, twenty hours later, well we tried it again folks, written at three am and forgotten about till now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 10:40:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21117419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iDragonSpyro/pseuds/iDragonSpyro
Summary: Clarke pauses at the expression on Lexa’s face at her last addition. “What the fuck was that?”“What the fuck was what?”“That-thatfaceyou pulled when I said ‘pumpkin spice everything.’”“Ah, that face,” Lexa sighs again and rubs a hand over her eyes. “I’m just not the biggest fan of it.”Clarke, Octavia, and Raven stare at her with matching looks of confusion. She blinks at them. “What?”Octavia frowns. “You don’t like pumpkin spice?”“I don’tdislikeit, but I don’t love it either,” Lexa responds.“Do you like it in anything?”Lexa shrugs. “Under certain circumstances. Pumpkin pie, those breakfast bars at Trader Joe’s. Also that one soap from them. Maybe a little when I’m making coffee, but pumpkin spice lattes can choke.”





	Certain Circumstances (Pumpkin Spice and Everything Nice)

**Author's Note:**

> "Certain circumstances" is an excuse and they all know it.  
Extra points to people who catch the three character references. They're pretty obvious.

“Fall!” Clarke shouts as she bursts into the dorm room, pointing at Octavia.

“Fall!” Octavia yells back, and throws a pillow at her.

Clarke whacks it out of the air and flops onto her bed, ignoring the grunted complaint from under the covers. “Lexa, it’s _fall.”_

Lexa groans again and pulls the covers down, blinking blearily in the light. “I know that, but why do you have to interrupt my nap for it?”

“Because it’s fall, you idiot!”

“Yeah, and I had a field experiment at five this morning because we _‘needed to study animal behavior at times when they’re not known to be as active,’_ which was really just an excuse for the professor to torture us in the middle of the woods with ramblings about _‘this species is generally considered nocturnal but human presence seems to have made these specimens crepuscular, isn’t that fascinating?’_ while we were hiding from some angry raccoons.”

“...Did you really get chased by angry raccoons?”

“Technically. They were mostly just after Lincoln’s Hot Pocket.”

The door bursts open again.

“Autumn!” Raven screeches.

“Autumn!” Clarke and Octavia yell back at her. Lexa just moans and burrows back under the covers.

Raven raises a brow at Clarke. “Someone’s not feeling the autumnal spirit, Clarke.”

“Lexaaaa,” Clarke whines, sprawling back onto the covers and yanking them up again, ignoring (mostly) the low growl that the other girl lets out. “Why aren’t you excited?”

“I am excited,” Lexa sighs. “I’m also very tired.”

Clarke frowns. “That’s no excuse. The spooky spirit of Halloween season should wake you up.”

“Later,” Lexa grunts, and tries to pull the covers back over her head. Clarke pulls them back down immediately.

“But Lexa,” she tries, “Autumn! Pretty colored leaves! Colder weather for soft sweaters! Really good flannels that you hopefully share with your friends because you have a million from home and we don’t have money! Pumpkin spice everything!”

Clarke pauses at the expression on Lexa’s face at her last addition. “What the fuck was that?”

“What the fuck was what?”

“That-that _face_ you pulled when I said ‘pumpkin spice everything.’”

“Ah, that face,” Lexa sighs again and rubs a hand over her eyes. “I’m just not the biggest fan of it.”

Clarke, Octavia, and Raven stare at her with matching looks of confusion. She blinks at them. “What?”

Octavia frowns. “You don’t like pumpkin spice?”

“I don’t _dislike_ it, but I don’t love it either,” Lexa responds. 

“Do you like it in anything?”

Lexa shrugs. “Under certain circumstances. Pumpkin pie, those breakfast bars at Trader Joe’s. Also that one soap from them. Maybe a little when I’m making coffee, but pumpkin spice lattes can choke.”

Clarke puts her hands over her eyes. “I can’t believe I’m friends with someone who doesn’t like pumpkin spice.”

“At least you’re not friends with someone who hates fall.”

“Maybe pumpkin spice can be our sometimes.”

Lexa whacks Clarke with another pillow.

October is a very good month, Clarke thinks. It’s cold enough for sweatshirts and pants, but not so cold that you have to pile on the layers every time you leave your blanket nest.

Not that she’d particularly want to leave her blanket nest right now anyways.

There’s some movie playing on the tiny TV they had managed to hook up in their dorm, and Clarke, Lexa, Raven, and Octavia had been squished together on the little couch they had shoved between the wall and the foot of Clarke’s bed. Octavia had left to go on a quick run (“Gotta make the most of the nicer weather”), and Lexa…

Well.

Raven is laughing at her from her spot on the other side of the couch, and Clarke does the best she can to glare at her.

“This is your fault, you know,” she hisses.

Raven pauses her laughter to throw her a faux-annoyed look. “How is any part of this my fault, princess?”

Clarke growls, “ You’re the one that chose this boring-ass movie, therefore you are the reason Lexa is asleep on me.”

“Clarke, I get that you’re having a bit of a gay panic, but there’s no reason to be blaming me for it.”

Clarke opens her mouth to respond when Lexa whines softly and curls tighter around Clarke’s waist. Clarke pushes down a small whimper of her own and dips down to press a small kiss to the top of Lexa’s head.

“Jesus Christ, Rae, _she even fucking smells good._ I should ban her from using the Trader Joe’s soap.”

Raven raises an eyebrow as Octavia comes through the door. “And how, exactly, do you plan on explaining why she can’t use it anymore?”

“She could always just tell the truth,” Octavia suggests as she pulls her jacket off and hangs it up. _“Well you see, Lexa, I’ve been in love with you since you slapped that dude for knocking me over before our first class together, and the soap you use isn’t exactly helping with my desire to eat you out-”_

_“Octavia,”_ Clarke hisses out harshly, _“Stop.”_ Because while she isn’t wrong, and Clarke is used to a fair bit of teasing about her hopeless crush from her two best friends, the fact remains that the girl in question is currently asleep against her torso, and seems to have been drawn back to the world of the living by the other three’s whispered conversation.

“Wuzz goin’ on,” she mumbles through a yawn, tensing and releasing her arms and legs in a half-hearted stretch. She blinks her eyes open and stares at Clarke when she realizes that her limbs are wrapped around someone. “Hullo.”

“Hey,” Clarke whispers back, hoping her face isn’t as red as it feels. Based on the way Octavia and Raven are snorting and giggling at her, it probably is.

“Do I smell coffee?” Lexa asks, twisting to look at Octavia.

She smirks back, “I got one after my run, you can have some if you’d like.”

Lexa draws one hand out from under Clarke’s body and holds it out. Octavia’s smirk stays in place as she hands the cup over.

Lexa takes a sip.

“Is this a fucking pumpkin spice latte?” she groans, eyes closing in irritation.

“Yeah,” Octavia snorts. “Do you like it?”

Lexa just lets out a long-suffering sigh and hands the drink back to a still-laughing Octavia.

“I fucking hate our friends,” she grumbles and burrows back into Clarke’s side. This time, Clarke’s not so successful at suppressing her whimper.

“Did I poke you?”

“W-what?” Clarke stutters out.

Lexa blinks up at her again. “You made a noise when I moved. Did I poke you?”

Clarke ignores Octavia, who has choked on her latte and is now doubled over with coughing fits, and ignores Raven, who is shaking with silent laughter. “Yeah, a little bit. It’s okay, though.”

Raven tilts to the side and falls off the couch, lying spread-eagled on the floor with tears streaming down the sides of her head. Octavia leans too far over the back of the couch and ends up almost on top of Raven, shaking and covering her face with her hands.

“Okay,” Lexa accepts. “Now turn the TV off or put something good on.”

They all expected it to happen, they just didn’t expect Lexa to be the one to do it.

She strolls into Clarke and Raven’s dorm, because Raven had made two technically illegal copies of their room key within the first month of the year, and says, “Everyone get the fuck up, we’re making pumpkin pie.”

“Lexa, what the fuck, it’s like ten o’clock at night,” Raven groans.

“We are making some fucking pumpkin pie.”

Raven stares at her. “I thought you didn’t like pumpkin stuff.”

“Certain circumstances, Reyes, we’ve been over this,” Lexa snaps her fingers at her. “Let’s go, hurry up.”

“Um, Lexa,” Clarke points out, “we can’t make a pumpkin pie with Raven’s contraband hot plate.”

“No, but we can do it in the dorm kitchen.”

Raven stares at her. “Have you been planning this?”

Lexa is already heading back into the hallway. “I already have the ingredients out, let’s move.”

Octavia is already in the kitchen when the three of them get there, sitting on the counter and kicking her feet against the cabinets.

“Took you long enough,” she says, hopping down. “I already started preheating the oven.”

“Good,” Lexa nods. “I’m putting you and Clarke on dough duty. I don’t trust you with the number of ingredients needed for the filling, or the amount of measuring you have to do for it.”

“That’s probably fair,” Octavia shrugs.

“Raven, you’re with me on the filling. Everything’s on the counter, we just need to measure and mix.”

Clarke and Raven move over to the counter.

“How’d you get the oven to work anyways?”

Lexa shrugs. “Rey and Emma from down the hall owed me a favor. Rey’s really good at mechanical engineering and Emma’s really good at finding spare parts.”

Clarke narrows her eyes at the other girl. “So you got your mechanical friends to jerry-rig an oven with spare parts.”

“Yes.”

Clarke sighs and waves her hands. “If we get blown up I’m blaming you.”

“Seems fair.”

Lexa was right to put Clarke and Octavia on dough duty. They’ve measured everything out and dumped it into the mixer bowl, and everything is going fine until Clarke presses too hard on the power switch.

The mixer immediately whirrs to the highest speed, and Octavia scrambles to push it back as flour starts flying everywhere. She gets it off, but the damage has already been done to their faces and the counter.

On the other side of the sink, Lexa just sighs and throws them both damp towels. “Put in a little more flour, and for the love of God be careful of that switch.”

Octavia insists on pushing the switch this time, and of course it goes perfectly. Clarke is just finishing pressing the dough into the dish when Lexa and Raven start whisking the filling, so she throws it into the little refrigerator while they finish.

Because they’re talented and coordinated, Lexa and Raven manage to mix the filling without spilling. The only mishap is when Raven drags her finger through it and swipes it against the inside of Lexa’s forearm.

“And we’re done,” Lexa says, setting the whisk down. “Clarke, can you get the dough back out?”

A second spill nearly occurs when Clarke turns around with the pie dish in hand right as Lexa brings her arm up to her mouth and proceeds to lick at a stripe of filling that has somehow gotten on the inside of her forearm (_Probably Raven,_ Clarke manages to think between various versions of _hot_ and _Jesus_ and _fuck_) in one long swipe.

As it is, she just manages to set the dish on the counter with a loud crashing noise as her knees nearly buckle. Lexa raises a brow at her.

“Are you okay?” she asks, tongue flicking out to lick along her bottom lip. Clarke leans heavily against the counter and swallows harshly.

“Yup,” she says, voice cracking. “All good. Great, even. Superb.”

Octavia leans over to whisper in her ear, “That was like, intensely hot, are you sure you don’t need to go calm down?”

“Shut _up,_ O.”

Raven snorts. 

Lexa, shrugging, whips out a spatula and starts pouring the filling into the pastry dish, spreading it evenly. Raven slides the dish into the oven and sets the timer.

“Fifty minutes,” she groans as she stands. “Dishes?”

“Just the mixing bowls, measuring cups, and this spatula,” Lexa replies. “Easy enough.”

Dishes are only easy when your friends aren’t quite so chaotic. Doing ten dishes leads to a soap war that only ends when the oven timer gives a warning beep. Clarke smears one last gob of bubbles against Lexa’s face and rinses her hands, taking a moment to revel in the surprised look that crosses Lexa’s face before she jostles her to the side to rinse her own hands. Clarke laughs and flicks the excess water from her hands at her.

“If you two idiots would stop staring at each other for three seconds,” Octavia snarks, brandishing a knife, “we could eat this.”

“Just cut the damn pie, Octavia,” Lexa calls back. “Us staring at each other is none of your concern.”

Lexa really needs to stop saying things like that, Clarke thinks as she leans on the counter once again.

The pie is good, somehow. It’s very good, actually, good enough that Clarke gives a little hum as she licks at the tines of her fork. They didn’t bother with plates, so they’re all just stabbing the pie bite by bite. The whole thing is gone probably sooner than it should be, considering there are only four of them, but who cares, really?

Octavia and Raven let out twin yawns as they place their forks down, and when Clarke looks over at the clock on the oven, she realizes that it’s well past midnight and Octavia and Raven had both been up early for special seminars.

Lexa eyes her carefully as she sets her fork in the dish and wipes her hands on a paper towel. 

“You two can go ahead,” she tells Octavia and Raven. “We did all the actual dishes already, we’ll just shove this one in the washing machine.”

Raven is already heading for the door, but Octavia hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Clarke smiles at her. “We’ll be fine, go to bed.”

She sighs as Octavia stumbles off towards her room, turning back to the counter and scooping up a bit of filling that had fallen off of a fork. Lexa’s already carrying the dish to the sink.

“Gotta say, Lex, I was skeptical, but this was really good,” Clarke says, and licks some of the filling off her finger.

There’s a small crash from the other side of the counter, and when Clarke looks up Lexa is leaning over the sink with her hands clenched on the wall of the basin, staring at her.

“What?” Clarke asks, frowning.

Lexa slowly shakes her head. “Nothing. You’re an idiot.”

“Why am I an idiot?”

“Oh, no reason.”

Lexa’s still staring at her, eyes narrowed. Clarke shrugs and goes to lick the last of the filling off her finger.

Within seconds, Lexa has crossed the counter, grabbed Clarke’s wrists, and shoved them both back against a cabinet. Clarke starts to ask what she’s doing, but then Lexa shoves a knee against her thigh to pin her better and kisses her.

Clarke’s brain short circuits, back to the cycle of _hot_ and _Jesus_ and _fuck_. This time, her knees do buckle as Lexa licks into her mouth, only staying standing because Lexa is pushing against her with her whole body and practically ripping a low moan from the back of her throat.

Lexa only pulls back when they’re both about to collapse from the need for oxygen, and she just stands for a moment, leaning her forehead against Clarke’s and panting. After a few moments of quiet, she finally speaks.

“Your god-damned finger,” she all but growls, and _fuck_ if her clearly wrecked tone doesn’t make Clarke’s knees buckle again. “Your finger, and that fucking filling. Dumbass.”

And because she really is a dumbass, all Clarke manages to say is, “I thought you didn’t like pumpkin flavor.”

Lexa smirks at her. “And I told you: I _love_ it under circumstances.”

When they finally manage to drag themselves back to Clarke’s room, Raven and Octavia greet them with cheers and clapping.

“What the fuck are you guys doing awake?” Lexa asks them.

Raven smirks at her. “Remember your friends Rey and Emma from down the hall?”

When Lexa nods, Raven’s smirk widens. “It seems they took the opportunity to place a camera in the kitchen this afternoon, with the intent of collecting blackmail material. Rey ran in here about forty-five minutes ago, waving a computer screen and yelling something about _“take that, Kali, I won the pool this time, you slick fuck, I told you to listen to Moon-”_ before cutting herself off and shoving the screen at us.”

Lexa is silent for a few seconds. Then she turns around and starts walking back to the hallway. “Well Clarke, It’s been fun, but it looks like I’m going to jail for murder, so this is goodbye.”

Clarke quickly slides in front of her and stops her with a soft kiss _(“because she can do that now, shut up Octavia!”)_, lacing their fingers together.

Lexa pouts at her. “Unfair.”

“No,” Clarke disagrees, practically dragging the other girl to her bed. “Sleep. Cuddle time.”

Lexa grumbles but curls around her anyways, ignoring the soft cooing noises coming from Raven’s side of the room. She decides, right as she’s falling asleep, that maybe pumpkin spice isn’t the worst thing ever made.

**Author's Note:**

> back on my buuuullllshit.  
I wrote most of this on my phone at like three in the morning and couldn't post until I got to my computer, but then I forgot about it but my clock says 11:55 so it's not technically late yet.  
Guys Lexa just really wants to make out with Clarke okay?  
Now I guess I'm gonna go write about some flannel.  
My tumblr is @idragonspyro, feel free to come scream at me there. I still don't know how to link that.


End file.
